


Strawberry Nights

by dubberclick



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: M/M, Maronnor, connor has a severe sweet tooth, connor is a detective and works with hank (his dad), everyone is human, hank is hank and barely mentioned, markus is a painter and inherited carl's mansion, markus is gay and a sweetie, they're super domestic and i love both of them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-09
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-20 06:51:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14889704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dubberclick/pseuds/dubberclick
Summary: Some nights Connor arrives home with bright smiles and fancy dinner reservations. Other times, he brings a shadow of stress with him and seeks Markus for comfort during frustrating cases. Tonight is one of those nights.





	Strawberry Nights

**Author's Note:**

> i originally posted this on my tumblr (nugget-lover-boy-draws), but i knew i wanted to post it here, too. i wrote this yesterday at like 12 at night, but i actually like how it turned out. domestic maronnor kills me. if this gets good feedback, i'll write more

“Maria Oakland- a 47 year old bank teller that allegedly committed suicide via overdose yesterday. She was found dead in her bathtub with well over the lethal dose of quetiapine fumarate in her system, but there weren’t prominent events that led up to the suicide. Her boyfriend and close family and friends reported no strange behavior and she wasn’t diagnosed with depression or other mental disorders except for her insomnia. Her coworkers at Genuility Credit Union stated that she enjoyed her job and staff at St. Mary’s Thrift Store say she volunteered happily there often.

“Also, there was a large withdrawal from an account at the Credit Union the day of her death under her name. The time of the deduction is known, but security maintenance was being held that week and the cameras that were on during that time couldn’t catch the angle, so we aren’t sure if it was her or not that made that withdrawal especially since she has no past cases of misconduct. No one at the bank remembered or saw anything out of the ordinary, but it doesn’t make sense. If she were the one to take the $185,000 out, why would she commit suicide the day of with no traces of the money?

“Her boyfriend was on a fishing trip for the day and her only son is abroad in Germany for college. She wasn’t seen leaving with anyone or having any reports of strange activity from her apartment neighbors. It doesn’t make sense; I’m missing something!”

 

Markus switched out for a two-inch brush, deciding he wanted hands to emerge from the inky black-streaked background. As he dipped his brush in a mix of metallic grey and black, he pondered over Connor’s words. Even though Connor only told him about his cases just so he could focus better by voicing them, Markus still listened and gave his thoughts. He drug his brush down the canvas, wondering if connecting the dots of the case were as easy as painting a line.

Markus glanced at Connor, his husband having set up a nest nearby on one of his paint-stained work tables. The detective popped another piece of chewy fruit candy in his mouth- strawberry, for particularly hard cases- and hunched over the table with the blue and green striped blanket Simon had crocheted them tucked around his shoulders. Connor picked up one of the many photos scattered among the sea of white paper adorning the table and scanned it. Markus made a mental note that he would have to paint Connor like this one of these times.

“A physically and mentally healthy woman dead suddenly and strangely. Money stolen under her name and gone without a trace. This all points to homicide, but it’s like she was murdered by God himself!”

Markus followed the stroke of grey with his eyes, fading the arm in from the corner of the canvas. He briefly wondered if he wanted to play with the contrasting colors using a fan brush, then pondered the bubbling mess of sugar and caffine occupying his studio at- he tilted his wrist to check the time- 12:24 on a Sunday night.

The painter tilted his head, dragging life onto stillness, “Her family say anything about strange interactions with her? Strange man stopped her on the street asking for $189,000? Telemarketer demanding she pay for something she’s never heard of?”

“$185,000.” Connor corrected through a mouthful of bright pink candy. He swallowed, already reaching for another piece before he even breathed. “And no, nothing strange happened. This had to be an unrelated person because all of the other staff came up clean and her family and friends were ruled out. The last time she was even visited was two weeks ago by her sister from two states away. There’s nothing that...”

Connor trailed off after the chime of an incoming email from his laptop and Markus heard the familar clacks and clicks of his husband redirecting his attention. Markus ignored the weighing fatigue of the late night setting in and structured the base of the hand into a vague cupping gesture. 

After a few minutes of brush strokes and computer clicks, Connor filled their joint silence once more. “Autopsy came in. Nothing strange expect for human scratches on her shoulder with traces of red nail polish.”

Markus glanced to Connor again as he sat back in his chair, tapping his finger on the laptop’s edge while he thought. The detective stared at his pile of artificial candy with a frown as if the calorie count on the packaging could answer all his questions. Connor scrubbed his hands through his already tousled hair and groaned. Markus felt empathy for his husband, knowing full-well the stress he was under.

“No one dad and I interviewed had red nail polish.. Damnit, it’s like finding a piece of hay in a needle stack!”

Markus dropped his shoulders and stepped back from the painting, deeming it and his husband done for the night. He began wrapping his brushes and paint pallet for tomorrow and smacked the lid of paint thinner back on. He was just about to tell Connor they should retire when the man in question unwrapped another candy.

“Sandra... Her nails weren’t red, but the middle finger nail on her right side was broken. She...” Connor trailed off again, diving into his computer, candy vanishing into his mouth. Markus closed his mouth, deciding he wasn’t going to interrupt when Connor found a lead. Instead, the painter washed his jars and stray brushes in the peaceful atmosphere of their studio.

Markus finished sealing the rest of his paints when Connor spoke again. “Finished payment of a house loan and a recently renewed passport. She works as a teacher..”

 

Connor was out of the chair with his phone against his ear before Markus could count to three. The detective abandoned his nest and went for the door with renewed energy only Connor could muster.

“I’ve got a lead. Meet me at the station in ten.”

_ “Jesus, Connor, don’t you kno-” _

 

The door of the studio closed before Markus could catch the tail end of Hank’s response. He smiled, picking up the discarded blanket and shutting the lights off in the studio before leaving. At least he would get the covers tonight.


End file.
